


We Kill the Flame

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Blindfolds, Hydra Steve Rogers, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Steve runs his thumb over Tony’s lower lip. “You will break,” he promises.He’s not right.Tony’s broken already.





	We Kill the Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> Written for the following prompt: "hydracap gets his hands on Tony".

Tony’s blindfolded, but the touch on his cheek is still terribly familiar. Gentle, for now, the way it might’ve been if Steve had ever touched him this way, but the threat is there, in the mere proximity to the other man. Any moment now he’d slide his hand down and choke Tony. Any moment now he’d slide it up and take the blindfold off, which would be worse.

He knows it’s _not_ Steve, but it’s hard to remember it when he’s looking at him. The blindfold is a mercy. 

Steve, not-Steve, probably thinks it makes Tony unsettled, being unable to see what’s coming, but it’s not true. He knows the only thing that’s coming is pain. He doesn’t need to see it.

Tony’s hands are cuffed to the wall over his head. He’s got nowhere to run.

“I missed you,” Steve whispers into his ear. “I wish you’d been near me. It would be so much easier if you gave up this resistance and joined me.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Tony snarls.

Steve runs his thumb over Tony’s lower lip. “You will break,” he promises. 

He’s not right.

Tony’s broken already. Steve’s taken care of that the first time he’s pulled Tony from his cell and into his rooms, stripped him and forced him down. He’s made sure of it the second time, and he’s shattered what was left on the third. 

Tony’s not really thinking of escaping anymore. He tries to: he tells himself he’s Iron Man, that escaping against all odds is all he does. But it’s _Steve_ he’s up against now, and Tony knows it _can’t be_ Steve, but he’s lost count of how long it’s been, how many times Steve’s come to _see_ him. 

If it was mind-control, wouldn’t Steve snap out of it?

Tony feels pathetic for even thinking it, because if it is mind-control, then Steve needs Tony to save him.

But Tony can’t do that. In his dreams, Steve smiles at him, and Tony screams in horror.

That’s how he knows he’s broken. 

But he’ll never give up. He’ll die before he’ll say, _Hail Hydra_. 

“You will fail,” he tells Steve. He’s not sure he believes it anymore.

Steve slaps him. 

He doesn’t do it very hard. He doesn’t break Tony’s skin this time. Tony’s known to expect it. 

But the contrast between it and the earlier careful touch still makes him gasp.

Clinking of a key, and Tony’s hands fall down, no longer hanging in cuffs. He doesn’t try to hit Steve or even push him away. He knows it’s useless. 

He wonders what Steve wants from him today in an almost detached manner. 

Steve rubs at his wrists. Tony flinches at the touch. 

He picks Tony up in a bridal carry like it’s nothing else than the most convenient way of getting Tony where he wants him. 

Tony doesn’t fight him. He still can’t see a thing, and he wishes he could not hear, too, and not feel, just dissolve slowly away.

If only. 

When Steve sets him down, it’s on something soft. A bed, then, and that answers Tony’s question.

He wishes he could stop caring about what happens to his body.

Steve strips him in efficient movements. He always does that, leaves Tony completely naked, and he never takes his own clothes off, like the imbalance of power between them could be changed in any way here.

Tony opens his legs. It’s just easier this way.

“It was more fun when you fought,” Steve comments.

_What’s the point_? Tony wonders. It doesn’t matter if he fights. Steve will take what he wants anyway. Sometimes he’ll fuck Tony’s mouth, and sometimes only his ass, and it’s better if Tony doesn’t say, _No_ , only for Steve to push inside him anyway.

Tony hears Steve moving around, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing. The air is warm here, but he’s shivering anyway.

The mattress dips, Steve grabs him by his hips, and that’s the only warning Tony’s had before Steve thrusts into him. He’s lubed himself up, at least, but it’s too fast and he’s too big. Tony bites on his lip to stop himself from crying out and tastes blood. 

Steve’s pace is punishing. He pushes all the way into Tony before sliding out, fast, fucking into him again, and again. Tony gasps in pain, unwanted tears welling up into his eyes and sinking into the blindfold. 

Steve’s hand is splayed over the RT like a reminder that this _is_ personal. That Tony isn’t just a convenient choice. 

_He loved you_ , he said once, and he never repeated it, but the words are carved into Tony’s memory forever; the perfect torture.

Steve doesn’t bother trying to get Tony off today. He does, sometimes, he draws it out, asks Tony if he doesn’t _like_ it, if he never dreamt of Captain America.

(He hasn’t. He’s only ever dreamt of Steve Rogers.)

Steve quickens his movements, and Tony grits his teeth. He won’t scream—

Steve tears the blindfold off his face.

His face is cruel even when twisted in pleasure. His blue eyes are almost mocking.

_How can you tell me I haven’t won already, Iron Man?_

Tony cries, because after all this time he still can’t deal with this monster having Steve’s face.

Steve comes then, his hand moving from the RT to grab at Tony’s arm, strong enough to bruise. (If only he’d break the RT instead, Tony thinks.)

He collapses on top of Tony, his uniform that Tony designed and carefully crafted to keep him safe digging into Tony’s naked body, the material rough against his skin. Maybe that’s why Steve never strips: to remind Tony how blind he’d been, how trusting. A futurist who didn’t even know there was a threat to look out for.

Steve rolls to his side, then, and reaches to wipe Tony’s tears away.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Tony asks before he can stop himself, because the illusion of care is always worse than pure pain.

Steve laughs like he knows what Tony’s thinking and he kisses him like he loves him.


End file.
